


These Violent Delights

by TotallyUtterlySherlocked



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Sherlock (TV) Season/Series 04 Fix-it, i'm clearly insane, sorry in advance, why am i even doing this
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-25
Updated: 2018-05-20
Packaged: 2018-11-18 17:44:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11295588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TotallyUtterlySherlocked/pseuds/TotallyUtterlySherlocked
Summary: Moriarty isn't dead, Mary is actually evil, and Mycroft? Mycroft's been very bad indeed.A season 4 fix-it, with generous dashes of M-theory thrown in for good measure.





	1. Prologue: The Tragedy of Mary Morstan

**Author's Note:**

> Basically my brain decided this needed to happen.
> 
> Not beta-ed or Britpicked.

"John, whatever they told you, it's not-"

He steadied the aim he held on the gun, right for the middle of her lying, cheating head.

"Stop lying," John said simply.

"I've never-"

Click. The gun cocked, and Mary Morstan knew she was well and truly fucked. She swallowed hard, and looked into the eyes of the man she once called her husband. Now, she was looking at a complete stranger. "You don't know everything yet," she tried, pleading.

John shrugged, the barest movement of his shoulders. "I'll figure it out. I live with Sherlock, you'll remember. Not that you care," The corner of his mouth ticked up hard once. "You shot him," he breathed.

Mary closed her eyes for a minute, inhaled, opened them. "I'd do it again," Her voice was full of steel, and her eyes were hard and cruel on his. "Neither of you deserve the other."

"I don't deserve you either," he retorted. "You and Jim, though." He smiled a little, cruelly. "Now there's Britain's next power couple." Briefly, he relished the look of disgust on her face.

"Jesus, no," She laughed, a thin, pinched sound. "God, you are so stupid." Her stance relaxed. "Sherlock's for Jim.  _You_ were for me," Her smile matched his for contempt.

John looked horrified. "I was never yours," he protested shakily. "Never."

"You fell for everything I told you." Her face changed then, to one of surprise. "John, we're going to have a baby!" She glared at him, shook her head a little. "Such an idiot. Sherlock's right; sentiment ruins ev-"

And then Mary Morstan was out of their lives forever in a bang, a flash of silver, and a spray of crimson red.

* * *

 

"Are you alright?" Sherlock rushed to John's side. John lowered the gun, let it hit the floor. 

"I think so," he answered, then realized his hands were shaking. "Maybe not," he amended, right before his legs gave out.

"You did just kill a woman," Sherlock said mildly, moving to catch John before he fell.

John laughed, a touch hysterical. "Yes, but she wasn't a very nice woman." He grunted when Sherlock caught him by the elbows, then he forced himself back upright.

"No, she really wasn't." Sherlock smirked when John shakily turned to face him. "Now," He extended a hand. "Home?"

Unashamed, John took it. "God, yes."

 


	2. The Prodigal Son

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise I haven't abandoned this story yet! I'm SO sorry it's been so long since I've updated, but I hope this chapter is worth it!
> 
> DISCLAIMER: I own nothing. Please don't sue me.

Sherlock stalked off the plane, barely even sparing John and Mary a glance. He quickly came nose-to-nose with the smug face of his older brother.

"Make up your bloody  _mind_ , brother mine," he hissed. Mycroft said nothing, only raised an eyebrow. Sherlock turned back then, and strode to where John and Mary were standing. They looked a bit shell-shocked, John somewhat less so.

“He was dead,” the doctor said bluntly.

Sherlock rolled his eyes. “So was I,” he replied simply. He flinched a little at the hollow-eyed stare John gave him in return. “The point is,” he continued. “Jim Moriarty did not die on that rooftop, just in the way I did not. The question now is, what is he planning?”

“Well,” Sherlock and John’s heads swiveled to face Mary as she began to speak. “You said, Sherlock, that Moriarty wanted to ‘burn the heart out of you’, yeah?” She looked almost excited, and Sherlock could practically see her mind working.

John gave her an exasperated look. “Can you stop doing that?” At her and Sherlock’s confused expressions, he sighed. “Stop acting like a pair of consulting detectives, for God’s sake. There’s one of you in the world, and in my opinion, that’s enough.”

“While this is all very… _touching_ ,” simpered Mycroft. “We’ve a few more important issues to deal with presently.” He held up his phone as it played a surveillance tape. Though it was grainy and low-quality, all those gathered could see the back of a man who appeared to be Jim Moriarty.

Sherlock looked intrigued. “How did you get this?” He demanded.

Mycroft just smiled. “You know as well as I do that I cannot reveal that information, brother mine.”

With an exasperated groan, Sherlock whirled away and stalked back towards the tarmac.

“Sherlock, what’s the plan then?” John called, frowning.

“I need to go back to Baker Street,” the detective replied almost immediately. He turned abruptly to face John and Mary. “Will you come, John?”

John and Mary quickly exchanged looks. Mary gave a small nod, and John hurried to catch up to Sherlock. “Of course, mate. I just need to take Mary home and then-“

“Oi!” Mary yelled. She put her hands on her hips. “John Watson, I am perfectly capable of making my own way home. For Christ’s sake, I’m pregnant, not dying. I can take a bloody cab.”

John opened his mouth to protest, bot at Mary’s glare, he wisely shut it. He turned back to Sherlock. “To Baker Street then?”

Sherlock grinned. “Of course.”

They began to make their way towards the nearest main road, walking in silence for a time before John spoke.

“Sherlock,”

The detective hummed in acknowledgement.

“What was Mycroft planning on doing with you?” That wasn’t really the question John had planned on asking, but it was out of his mouth before he could stop it.

Sherlock went so still that John almost took the question back. The detective swallowed hard before he went on walking. “He was sending me on a suicide mission, more or less.” His voice was hard, emotionless.

“ _What_?” John was in disbelief.

Sherlock swallowed hard again. “It was the best he could do, John. I was going to be executed anyway.” He smiled humorlessly. “Might as well prove useful to queen and country before I died.”

He looked over to see John suppressing his rage. His fists were clenched tight, and Sherlock could hear him grinding his teeth.

“That smug, selfish bastard,” the doctor muttered. “I swear to God, the next time I see him-“  


“No, John.” Sherlock snapped. John looked over, startled.

“If we’ve any hope of figuring out what Moriarty’s plan was, we need Mycroft’s help. I hate admitting that, God knows I do, but I need everything he’s capable of getting us.”

John released a long breath. “Yeah,” he said finally. “You’re right, of course. As usual.”

At that moment, the two of them made it to the main road, and Sherlock raised his arm to hail a taxi. One of them stopped, and the men got in.

“Where to, lads?” The cab driver turned to look at them.

“221B Baker Street, please,” answered Sherlock.

And so they were off, off to be John and Sherlock again, just when John had given up hope they’d ever be together again.

God, it felt good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that most of the fandom is in consensus that Extended Mind Palace theory better explains the insanity that was season 4, but I still really like M-theory and how it ties everything together.
> 
> Regardless, I hope you enjoyed! Please leave a comment, and...
> 
> DFTBA, darlings, :)

**Author's Note:**

> Not quite sure how this is going to go, but I think this is going to be RIDICULOUSLY fun. Once I get deeper into meta, I'll provide links! This particular bit of info comes from (I think) loudest-subtext-in-television's M-theory, as will most of this fic's meta!


End file.
